Feed the Fire
by kisskisskill
Summary: The life of a mafioso is not an easy one. Tragedy strikes, and Tsuna's peaceful world is destroyed. With Reborn as his only protector, will he sink or swim?
1. Halos of the Sun

**Feed the Fire**

kisskisskill

I don't own Reborn, or anything else. Enjoy!

Warning: violence, blood and character death. Canon!rape imminent, and future yaoi.

* * *

"Mama! I'm home!"

Tsuna was ten. It was late afternoon and he'd just left school, having gotten stuck doing the majority of his class' clean up duty. Part of him wondered if it was fair that he always got stuck with the tedious job, but he rationalized that maybe if he did it enough, his friends would let up on calling him Dame-Tsuna so much. "Sorry I'm late Mama... Kenshiro asked me if I could take his cleaning duty today because the soccer team has an important game coming and he was needed at practice..." Tsuna grinned as he thought of the athletic boy, remembering how he'd promised Tsuna one of his mother's cinnamon pastries the next time she made them. He toed off his street shoes and dropped his bag next to them, padding down the hallway towards the kitchen. "Mama?"

No reply.

Spying a note on the counter, he picked it up, sighing as he read the instructions his mother had left.

'Tsu-kun, I've gone to the market. I left curry in the fridge for your snack. Don't forget to start your homework after!'

"Yare yare..." Smiling at the chibi of herself that she always signed her notes to him with, he set the paper down and headed around the front of the counter towards the fridge, stomach growling at the thought of his mother's curry rice. He had one hand on the door handle when something inside him started urging that there was something wrong. Pausing for a second, he shrugged when nothing unusual happened and pulled the door open, easily spotting the plate with his meal on the top shelf. Picking it up, he turned to take it to the living room to eat, remembering that his favourite show should be on soon.

The plate hit the floor, clattering out of his suddenly nerveless fingers, spilling curry and rice all over the tiles. Tsuna didn't notice; too busy staring at what had been hidden behind the long counter the entire time. "M-Mama..? Mama! Mama!" Lurching as his foot slid in the cold mess on the floor he stumbled and fell to his knees a few steps away, hands trembling as he stared as the still form of his mother sprawled out behind the counter. "Mama... s-stop it. This isn't funny." He reached out to shake her gently, nausea roiling in his gut as her head slid sideways, hiding his mama's beloved face. Without it to keep his attention, he couldn't help but stare at the bloody hole in the center of her chest, one that was as large as his balled up fist.

She'd been wearing her favourite blouse when he'd left for school this morning, the pink one with flower buttons that his often absent father had helped him buy last time he'd come home. The delicate cotton was ruined now, a huge slash across her chest ripping it open and soaked with blood, buttons scattered in the pool of crimson that was even now seeping into the knees of his uniform pants. "Why... Mama, why?"

A loud bang outside cut through his daze and suddenly everything caught up to him as his stomach heaved. He turned to the side as he retched everything he'd eaten, instinctively not wanting to soil his mama anymore than she already had been. Taking one last look, he reached over her to where he'd spotted the cell phone his father had insisted she have, trying desperately to ignore the blood now soaking into the front of his shirt. A yell from outside send him bolting out of the kitchen and up the stairs, skidding into his closet where he collapsed in a huddle in the corner once the door was firmly shut. Shaking violently as he tried to stay calm, images of Mama's laughing, smiling, _dead_ face at the front of his mind, Tsuna shakily punched in the number he'd been told to memorize, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood as he waiting for the other end to pickup.

"Ciao?"

Tsuna nearly sobbed in relief when his father answered the line, sounding harried. "T-Tousan..." he swallowed heavily, hysterical sobs trying to claw their way out of his throat.

"Tsuna-kun? You never call me... Is something wrong? Where's your mother?" Iemitsu's voice brightened when he realized who it was that was calling, but darkened as he remembered that the line Tsuna was using was Nana's emergency cell phone.

Tsuna stilled as his young mind finally realized that his father didn't, couldn't know about what happened. Not from so far away. Teeth chattering as he held back sobs by force of will alone, he answered, "M-Mama... Mama's hurt. She's hurt really bad Tousan! I came home from school and she wasn't there a-and when I turned around I-I-I saw her and sh-she... th-there's bl-bl-blood a-all o-over!" His voice broke piteously as the sobs finally broke through his hold on them. "T-Tous-san, what sh-should I d-do?"

All the way in Italy, Iemitsu's heart was shattering. His darling Nana was dead and his tiny, innocent son had been the one to find her. Listening to Tsuna cry brokenly on the other phone, Iemitsu made a quick decision, silently cursing himself and the fate that made him fall in love with the sunny woman he'd left behind in Japan. "Tsuna, listen to Tousan. I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me? I want you to go and get the box that's in the top drawer of Mama's bedside table. This is going to be very hard for you, but you have to keep that box with you at all times, okay?" Iemitsu paused, deliberating. It was getting hard to speak past the hard lump of grief that was lodging in his throat. "There's... there's going to be something else in that drawer too, Tsunayoshi. You need to be very careful with this, because if you don't it could hurt you very badly. Do you remember when Tousan took you to the firing range last year before your birthday?" Iemitsu closed his eyes, damning himself for what he was going to say as he paced the length of his office.

"Yes."

The whispered answer was like a knife in Iemitsu's chest. His son should never sound that scared, that broken. Cursing under his breath, he plunged on, consequences be damned. He hadn't wanted Tsuna exposed to danger, but the Family's enemies had forced his hand. "You remember what I taught you back then, don't you, Tsuna? Can you tell Tousan what you remember?"

"Uhm..." There was a pause as Tsuna sighed shakily into the receiver. In his mind, Iemitsu could see the small boy raking a hand through that ridiculous mop of hair he seemed to have inherited directly from his far ancestor, and smiled sadly despite himself. "A-ano... always make sure the safety's on, don't point it at anyone I trust if there's bullets in it, and if I have to pull the trigger, make it count."

Iemitsu chuckled, remembering himself rattling off those three exact rules to his son only a few months ago when he'd managed to sneak Tsuna out from under Nana's overprotective eyes. The thought of his wife made Iemitsu's heart clench painfully, but he had to stay strong for his son. Tsuna was all he had left now. "Good boy. Now I want you to go and get that box and the gun that's in the same drawer, and then get back to your hiding place. You are hiding, right?"

"I... Yes. In the closet. There was a noise and someone was yelling outside and I was scared—"Iemitsu cut through his son's hysterical dialogue, needing to make Tsuna understand just how dangerous his situation was at that moment.

"Tsuna, go now. This isn't a game. I need you to get to Mama's room as quickly and as quietly as you can, and then get back, okay? Put the phone in your pocket, but don't close it."

There was a hiccup from his son, before he heard rustling fabric and the creak of the flimsy closet doors opening. Iemitsu could hardly breathe, half of him expecting to hear the worst at any moment. Unable to stand it, cell phone still pressed almost desperately to his ear as he waited for his son to say the task was done, he hurried to the door of his office, yanking it open and letting the weight of the heavy oak slam it against the wall; if the situation wasn't so grim, he would have laughed as the crash startled Turmeric so badly he nearly fell out of his chair behind the desk outside.

"Boss?" The Italian man stared at Iemitsu, unused to seeing the other man so upset, especially since he'd been laughing uproariously when he entered the private office half an hour ago. He wasn't stupid though. Eyeing the cellphone that was clutched in his superior's hand, Turmeric was on full alert. "Situation?"

Iemitsu didn't bother to mince words, taking to pacing the floor of the outside office as he curtly brought his assistant up to date. "Contact Timeoto. My wife is dead and Tsunayoshi will follow her if we don't move fast. I don't care if he argues. I want to know who is stationed in Japan right now, and how soon they can retrieve my son."

Eyes wide as the full gravity of the situation sunk in, Turmeric was already halfway through dialling the only line that would get straight through to the Ninth when the last detail registered. "Your son is one of the candidates to be Decimo?" He stuttered, staring at the agitated man that was prowling back and forth in front of his desk like a caged lion. Iemitsu was head of CEDEF; if it got out that his son was one of the five candidates to become the next head of the family... Turmeric didn't dare to finish the thought.

"Yes, yes, it doesn't matter right now; just get Timeoto on the line!" Iemitsu snapped back, beginning to panic as the seconds, then minutes ticked by as he waited for Tsuna to say something to let him know he was safe. Time stretched on agonizingly slow before he heard the telltale rustle of fabric and his son's quiet breath near the speaker. Blocking out the sound of Turmeric's low, urgent voice, he focused completely on the cellphone in his hand. "Tsuna?"

"Tou..." A gasp, as the boy caught his breath. "Tousan, there's a man in the house... I don't recognize him from the neighbourhood. Tousan, I'm scared!" Tsuna's voice was beginning to hitch again, a sure sign that there was another fit of crying on its way. Iemitsu swore quietly, spinning around to stare urgently at his assistant while speaking calmly but firmly to his panicking son.

"Tsuna, in that box should be a black container with bullets in it. Do you see it? Good. You remember when I showed you how to load the gun before we played target practice, right? Mama's gun is very similar. I need you to make sure that the gun is loaded." Nana hadn't understood the reason why her husband forced her to keep the gun in the house, and had refused to keep it loaded; A smart decision, until it cost her her life. He heard metal scrape against metal, and a distinct click that as a member of the mafia, Iemitsu recognized all too well as that of a gun being loaded. "Good boy. This is important now Tsuna. You have my permission to take the safety off. Be very careful after this, okay?"

"Papa..." Tsuna's voice was very small and quiet now, barely a whisper. Iemitsu's fingers tightened on the cell phone; his son hadn't called him that since he'd stopped needing a nightlight to sleep at night. "Papa, I'm scared. The man is at the stairs and he's very angry Papa. H-He's got a gun and he's yelling that something's not here and he-he-he s-says he-he's gonna t-teach you a-a lesson. Papa, where a-are you?"

If Iemitsu was crying now, he didn't notice, and Turmeric didn't say a word, carefully avoiding his boss's gaze as he worked as fast as he could. "I'm right here Tsuna. You're very brave, you know that? You're going to be okay Tsuna, Papa will be coming to get you soon, okay?" His phone beeped in his ear, the battery nearly dead. "Tsuna, Papa loves you, alright? No matter what, Papa loves you, and I'll be there soon. Be brave for Papa okay?"

"Papa hurry ple-" Another beep, then silence. Iemitsu snarled and hurled the phone against the wall, screaming out in grief and impotent rage.

"Tsuna!"

* * *

Theme: Fuel – Halos of the Sun

Just so you know, second chapter has been prewritten, I'm just waiting for my betas to get back to me on possible changes. I'm hoping I can keep this updated on a weekly basis.


	2. Bloodstained

Feed the Fire

Bloodstained

kisskisskill

I don't own Reborn, no matter how much I wish

Warning: More blood in this chapter, and a lot more suspense. Things are going to heat up from here, people!

Beep... beep... beep...

Tsuna stared at the phone in his hand in disbelief, the dial tone sounding like a death sentence in his ears. "Papa..." At ten, and scared out of his wits, the boy couldn't help but imagine the worst; His Papa was strong, he wouldn't hang up on him like that unless something terrible was going on where his Papa was. Tears started rolling down Tsuna's cheeks as he realized he was all alone now, but he held his breath so he wouldn't make a sound, swallowing his sobs. He hadn't forgotten about the bad man that was in his house, looking for him. He stilled as one thought crystallized in his mind; this man was the one that had hurt his Mama. He wanted to hurt his Papa too. Tsuna wasn't brave, but his parents were the center of his world. This man had already taken his Mama away, there was no way Tsuna was going to let him hurt his Papa either. His Papa had told him to be brave and that he'd be there soon. If the man was still here when Papa arrived and he took Papa away too... He couldn't even finish the thought, unable to understand a world without both of his parents.

There was a crash from down the hallway; the man was in Mama's room, he had to be. It sounded as if he was throwing everything in the tiny room against the wall in his search. Search for what? He glanced down at the wooden box in his lap. There had been a bunch of strange rings inside it, like they'd been broken in half. Was this what the man wanted? His Papa had said to protect it but...

Another crash and the man started yelling curses. His voice was harsh and funny sounding, and it reminded Tsuna of the time someone had called for his father. His father had been so angry then, yelling at the phone in a weird language... Maybe this was the person his Papa had yelled at?

There were heavy footsteps coming back down the hallways and Tsuna froze, listening to the man's rambling.

"Where the fuck did you hide them Iemetsu. Fucking bastard, wish I could see your face when you find out your precious fucking Nana is dead." There was a pause, then a loud bang and the sound of something hard cracking. "I better find those rings fast Sawada, or she'll look real pretty compared what I'll do to the brat when I find him." The footsteps were outside his room now, and through the bars of the closet doors, he could see the man standing in his doorway.

Tsuna felt strangely calm, pulling the safety on the gun in his hand back by feel, eyes never leaving the man that was now ransacking his room. _Remove the safety, aim along the barrel_... He could remember his father's instructions from the day at the shooting range clearly as he brought the gun into position as he'd been taught. His hands were trembling, and this gun was heavier than the one his Papa had let him use that day. _Brace yourself against the recoil, and when you're ready... fire._ Tsuna squeezed the trigger, but that sense inside told him not to fire, not yet.

The man had finished tearing Tsuna's bed and desk apart, and was heading towards the closet, an ugly leer twisting what should have been a handsome face. "Oh Iemetsu, you sly bastard, if the damn rings aren't here then that damn brat is going to pay for it..." The doors were suddenly wrenched open, and Tsuna found himself blinking up at the man, whose face contorted into a sick, evil smile. "Well I'll be damned. The brat's right here. Let's play a game, little boy..."

Tsuna's instincts screamed as the man snatched at him. His finger squeezed the trigger convulsively, and the next thing he knew, Tsuna was spattered with blood and other things he didn't want to think about. Shocked brown eyes stared up at the man that had just been threatening him, flinching back as more blood hit his skin when the man choked and spit up blood, his gun falling to the floor as he tried vainly to close the gaping hole that been blown through the side of his neck. Red-black blood poured from the wound, dying the man's shirt a brilliant ruby red, and as Tsuna watched, unable to tear his eyes away from the horrific sight, the man coughed again and collapsed to his knees, mouth wide and frothed with bloody bubbles as he slowly drowned in his own blood. Coffee black eyes met Tsuna's just before the man tilted and crashed onto his side, shuddering as his body fought for air, fingers still scrabbling at the hole in his throat, smearing the blood everywhere.

Tsuna couldn't move. There was so much blood, so much of it, all over, just like Mama... he couldn't help but realize that this was what happened to his mother; that this man, this beast had hurt her, had probably laughed as she died. _This is fair_, he told himself, though a part of him felt like running in terror as he forced himself to meet the eyes of the dying man again. "Y-you..." He coughed, throat sore from all of his crying. "You hurt my Mama. You took her away from Tsuna. I hope you're hurting as much as it hurt her." His voice sounded strange to him, cold and calm, as if he was in a dream. But the copper stench of blood and the warm, almost hot wetness seeping into his clothes and dripping down his face said it was all real. "I hope you're sorry, 'cause Tsuna thinks you're too late to say it." He could hear the man's gurgling breath's becoming faster and shallower, the pool of blood around slowly growing larger. Tsuna shivered. The blood was so hot on his skin where it had soaked into his clothes, but he felt so very cold inside. Hugging himself and clenching his teeth to stop them from chattering as shock slowly set in, the child couldn't look away from the scene in front of him, ears full of the man's shallow, rattling breaths, watching as the blood bubbled from his lips and the hole in his throat with each one. The man's breath hitched; one, twice, then his chest stilled, his final gasp slipping away.

Tsuna never noticed when he stopped crying.

x

It was dark when Kawahira finally found it. The tiny house, with its neat garden, all the flowers closed until the sun came up again, seemed to radiate desperation, but only to him. No one else on the street seemed to notice the dark windows, or the front door that was slightly ajar, the children running up and down the street in one last, frantic game of tag, and students coming home from cram school dodging around them feeling suddenly out of place to him. As street lights began to turn on, and parents called their children in for dinner, Kawahira sighed and walked up towards the house, scratching irritably at an itch that hadn't left since this all began.

He'd been doing chores for his aunt when the phone inside rang, and she called his name, saying it was for him. Whatever he'd been expecting, a call from his estranged uncle was definitely not it. Kawahira wanted nothing to do with the man, nor the mafia that had killed his parents and forced the man to abandon his aunt, but Visconti's urgent, worried tone had sent shivers down his spine, threatening dire consequences if he didn't obey.

_Tomoyuki, I don't care if you loathe me, but this is important. A woman has been murdered in Namimori, and it's possible her son has been too. I need you to go there, and if the boy is still alive, keep him with you and Mitsuki until our agent arrives to relieve you. Leave everything else. That boy must be protected._

As he walked up the concrete sidewalk, he couldn't help but shiver, wondering what this woman's connection to the mafia had been. The house and its surroundings seemed normal enough, bright curtains in the windows that seemed faded in the darkening twilight, and the small garden was well tended. Pushing the front door open, Tomoyuki paused, swallowing thickly as the stench of blood wafted out. Covering his nose with his sleeve, he stepped inside, feeling around on the wall for a light switch, walking farther into the house as the lights came on. The soles of his sandals slapped quietly against the polished floor, past the empty, destroyed living room and into the kitchen. He could smell the blood here, even through the cloth, and peeked around the counter, checking for the signs of the child, immediately wishing he hadn't.

The woman was sprawled out behind the counter, her face hidden from him by the angle and her tangled hair. He choked and was nearly sick when he saw the hole in her chest, and realized that yes, those splinters of white he could see were bone and _oh god, what did this... _If he hadn't have seen what was left of his parents after the crash that took both their lives, Kawahira would've vomited right there. Forcing himself to look away and ignore the horrible feeling that he knew her, he rushed down the hallway, peeking into the tiny bathroom just to make sure the boy he was looking for wasn't there. Unblemished porcelain gleamed back at him, and he continued on, senses screaming at him to get out of there, to get far, far away and not look back. He couldn't shake the image of that poor dead woman from his mind, caught between her still form and the bloody mess that had been his mother and father. The thought of going upstairs made him want to bolt for the door, but Visconti's words came back to haunt him, the unspoken threat forcing him up the stairs. He nearly fell, knees getting weak as the smell grew even stronger, and behind his glasses, his eyes were wide and terrified when he saw that the destruction downstairs was nothing compared to what had been done upstairs. He stared at the remains of the first room, furniture shattered and covered in the shredded remains of the bed linens. The mattress has been slashed open, steel springs jutting out grotesquely like bones, and the closet had been emptied, clothed ripped apart and flung across the room as if whoever had done it was in a rage. Shards of mirrored glass still clung to the frame of the vanity in one corner, and Tomoyuki flinched back from his reflection, confusing his pale skin and hair, and wide, frightened eyes for a ghost, just for a second. Shuddering, and suddenly feeling as if the dead woman's eyes were on him, urging him to continue, he headed down the hallway, one hand braced against the wall, tasting the blood in the air and barely able to breath as his stomach threatened to revolt. He stumbled into the doorway, and stopped dead, unable to tear his eyes away.

_Oh God, how cruel you are..._

Kawahira forced himself to ignore the dead man that was sprawled over the floor, knowing he'd be sick if he focused on the body too much, and let his gaze skip over the destruction in the room, the corpse, the pool of blood, to the nearly motionless form that was huddled inside the closet, half hidden by one of the doors. If it weren't for the occasional shudder that wracked the child's body, he would have sworn that the boy was dead. There was a gun held tightly in one of the boy's hands, knuckles white from the grip he held it with, and cloudy brown eyes were fixed on the body in front of him, his knees hiding the rest of his face. Kawahira shifted, and the child's head snapped up, the gun suddenly pointed at him, held unnervingly steady despite the tiny hand holding it.

"Who are you?" The voice was hoarse, and hurt Tomoyuki's heart just to listen to. It was dead sounding and hollow. He swallowed thickly, raising his hands to show that he was unarmed.

"A friend." There was a click, and his eyes widened, realizing that the boy had just released the safely on the gun that was trained on him. "Really!" His brain screamed at him to run, but the look in the boy's eyes nailed his feet to the floor. There was a terrible hopelessness in those brown eyes, eyes that he vaguely remembered seeing sparkling with childish delight on the few occasions he'd spotted the boy out shopping with his mother. That look was one he recognized from what he used to see in the mirror when he'd been a child. His mouth was dry and his tongue felt thick and fuzzy, but Tomoyuki spoke quickly, needing to the boy to trust him. "My name is Kawahira Tomoyuki. Your mama..." he swallowed, trying to ignore the despair that flooded into the boys eyes, "Your mama is friends with my auntie. You remember Mitsuki-obaasan, right?" A hesitant nod. "That's good. You probably won't remember him, but Visconti-ojisan sent me. He works with your father, in Italy." The gun in the boy's hand wavered, and Tomoyuki continued. "Your father asked him to contact me, because it's not safe for your father to come get you yet. But I'm going to take you somewhere safe, and then we can wait for him together, okay?"

Green eyes stared into glassy brown for what felt like an eternity, before the safety clicked again, and the child sagged, the gun hitting the floor with a dull clatter. Kawahira stepped into the room, skirting around the pool of blood and the in the middle of it, until he was close enough to reach the boy. The two stared at each other for a second, before the teenager nodded to himself, and pulled a clean outfit off of a hanger, then scooped the boy into his arms, wincing at the pained whimper the child let out as cramped muscles complained. "Let's get out of here, hmm?" He stepped over the body, stopping at the doorway to take one last look around the room, and hissed in shock as he recognized the crest embroidered on the lapel of the corpse's suit. "Vongola..." Shaking his head, he decided that now was neither the time nor place to think about it, and headed downstairs, taking the stairs carefully as the boy in his arms clutched his shirt.

They stopped for a moment in the pristine bathroom so that the boy could change and get out of the bloodstained school uniform he was wearing. With his muscles so cramped from sitting in one position for god knows how long, Tomoyuki had to step in to help, but despite the fumbles and the boy's mumbled protests, he was quickly changed, his ruined uniform left in a pile on the floor. Tomoyuki scooped him into his arms again, noticing, but not mentioning the box that the boy refused to let go of, eyeing the death grip the boy had on it but putting it out of his mind as something else to be addressed later.

He twisted as they approached the kitchen, shielding the child from the sight of his dead mother on the floor. He needn't have worried though, because the boy whimpered and buried his head into his chest, clutching tighter to Tomoyuki's shirt. "Mama..."

Heart twisting in echoed pain, Kawahira's steps sped up, shifting most of the boy's weight to one arm when they got to the door so that he could fumble with the lock. Spying the backpack and shoes just inside, he picked set the boy down long enough to slip his shoes on and stow the wooden box in the bag, and then they were out of the house, the door softly clicking shut behind them.

To Tsuna, cradled in Kawahira's arms, it sounded like the end of the world.

x

Reborn arrived late that night, long after Tsuna had fallen into a fitful sleep full of nightmares and grief.

Something woke Tomoyuki out of his own restless sleep, and on his way to the bathroom, he'd seen the man standing out on the sidewalk, face hidden by the shadows of his fedora and standing so still that it almost seemed as if he was a statue. It wasn't until Tomoyuki's eyes adjusted to the darkness that he could make out any details, but once they did he could make out the lizard perched on the man's hat. He was out the door in a flash after that, a flash of intuition telling him exactly who it was that the Vongola had sent to retrieve the kid he'd brought home with him.

"Reborn-san! You weren't expected until tomorrow!" He may hate the mafia, but Tomoyuki wasn't stupid. He'd heard enough about the prodigy hitman from Visconti before his uncle had skipped town to be able to put the clues together. He bowed to the Italian, knowing full well the amount of respect that Reborn commanded in Italy, and silently cursed the fact that he was greeting the man in only his pajama pants. "I hope you haven't been waiting here for long?"

The other man didn't move, black eyes observing the teenager for a second before the man sighed and relaxed his stance. "I wouldn't have been here until tomorrow if it weren't for the brat's father hounding me about it. It's fine though, someone had to stand guard."

Tomoyuki winced, looking away. "Sorry... Obaa-san went to sleep a little after she managed to get Tsuna-kun settled, and I guess I'm just not used to late nights..." He scratched his head, unsure of what to say. "Do you want to come in?"

One of Reborn's eyebrows rose in inquiry, before he shook his head. "No, not yet. I think I'd like to take a look at the scene before I meet Iemetsu's son." He paused, grimacing. "Is there anything you think I should know before I go, kid?" Those black eyes were pinning him down, and Tomoyuki found himself desperately wishing he had something else he could look at, feeling like the hitman was able to see straight through him.

"V-Vongola. The guy was wearing the Vongola crest on his suit. And he looked like he was foreign, Mediterranean probably." Reborn was still staring at him, once again giving the impression of being made out of stone. "That's all I can remember, honestly. I was kind of in a hurry to get out of there, you know. Tsunayoshi was really shaken up and I wanted to get him out of there before it got any worse." He babbled, backing away from the man.

"How is he?" The question snapped the teenager out of his panic, and he eyed the hitman seriously.

"Honestly? That kid is a mess. I don't know what happened in that house, or how long he was there before Visconti got a hold of me, but he's... He's not all there right now, and I don't blame him." Raking his hand through his hair, Tomoyuki slumped, exhaling heavily. "I saw what was done to Sawada-san, and it was pretty gruesome. Plus from what I could tell, the guy the kid took out didn't exactly die a quick death either. Watching someone die... I don't even want to imagine it." He glanced back up at the man in front of him, and instantly regretted it when that dangerous stare pinned him down again, dissecting him visually.

"Did he have a box with him? Where is it now?" Reborn's voice was low, urgent.

Air hissed between Tomoyuki's teeth as he inhaled sharply and he found himself glaring back at the other man, his mind running one hundred miles a second. "That box is what caused this, isn't it? That scumbag wanted that box so he killed Sawada-san and was about to kill Tsuna-kun too, just for some stupid box! This is why I had the god damn mafia, fuck!" He cursed as he turned his back to the hitman and walked back inside. He stopped at the door, looking back at the dark man. "Yes, he has the box. He won't let go of it, even to sleep. Feel free to let Sawada-san know the kid's protecting the damn thing with his life. His wife already did, after all." The shoji hit the frame with a sharp clack as he shut it behind him, shuddering as his he collapsed to his knees. "God dammit!" He slammed his fist against the floor, before shifting his weight so that he was sitting, his back against the wall. "God dammit..."

Outside, Reborn stared at the closed door for a second, before turning, and walking down the street, absently double checking that the pistol he had hidden in the small of his back was still loaded. "A Vongola, huh?" Pulling a cell phone from his pocket, he dialled and waited for it to pick up while he walked, enjoying the solitude while he could.

"Buonasera."

Reborn paused, choosing his words carefully. "It's me. I've checked in with Kawahira. The boy's fine, Timoteo. Shaken up, but that's understandable, I think." He stopped next to the car he'd left parked down the street; a sleek, black, imported affair. Leaning against the driver's side door, he exhaled, waiting.

"Good. This is such a terrible thing to happen to a child. Poor Nana... Iemetsu is devastated." The concern and grief was plain in the older man's voice, and Reborn shifted impatiently. "Alas, this isn't the time for grieving. Are the rings safe?"

"Yes, according to Kawahira. I haven't seen the boy yet to confirm it myself." He paused, silently debating. "We have a problem, Timoteo. The kid said that this may have been an inside job. I'm headed to the house to confirm, of course, but if it is..." He didn't need to finish. They both knew the penalty for betraying the Family.

"Do what you need to, Reborn. You have my full confidence." The line went silent, before the other man continued; his voice firm. "Bring them home, Reborn. Tsunayoshi will need his family, and we will bury Nana with all the love and respect that she deserves."

"Of course, Ninth. Ciao." Sliding into the car, Reborn relaxed into the seat before he started the ignition, tipping his head back against the headrest. "Welcome to the Family, Sawada Tsunayoshi. You're ours now."

Final theme: Nobuo Uematsu – Great Northern Cave (Remastered)


	3. Storm Clouds

Feed the Fire – Chapter 3: Storm Clouds

Warnings: angst, mentions of character death

Notes: Okay, I lied a bit. There's a chapter or two after this one before things get moving in terms of introducing more character interactions, but I swear, it was needed to get the plot rolling! And just as a quick reply to my darling anon... The personality quirk will resolve itself. Call it a result of trauma. Second, I have big plans for the curse. Believe in me! It won't get away without an explanation; I just don't know when it'll be addressed!

Shadowed by the brim of the man's fedora, dark eyes observed the boy that was sprawled bonelessly beneath a tree, the only signs of life being the barely there rise and fall of his chest. Taking a sip of his tea, Reborn grimaced, wishing that it was a shot of strong espresso, and set the cup down with a sharp clink, turning to study the photographs laid out on the table in front of him for the tenth time that morning. The Kawahira kid had stopped in earlier to deliver tea to him, but one glance at the photos Reborn had taken of the corpses from the Sawada household had sent him bolting out of the room again. Cursing softly in Italian, he flipped the pictures of the woman over; Nana, his mind supplied. He would destroy those soon. Her body was being taken back to Italy when he left, and the hitman knew that that alone would be hard enough on Iemitsu to handle. There was no need for him to ever see these photos and know just how casually she had been killed.

The others though... The Mafioso shook his head, tracing the outline of the embroidered Vongola crest with his finger. Even dyed crimson with blood, he would recognize it anywhere. It was an inside job just as he'd feared; a calculated act of hatred against another member of the Family. But oh, what an act it was.

Everyone in the Vongola knew that the Ninth was beginning to consider whom he would name as his heir, and all the same, any made man worth the title knew the names of the five candidates. Enrico and Matsuo Castellano, the two oldest sons of the Ninth's younger brother, Frederico Nigrelli, his sister's child, Timoteo's bastard son Xanxus, and Sawada Tsunayoshi, the last of the Primo's asian descendant's. Timoteo was still in good health as he approached his sixtieth birthday, but there was already pressure from the rest of the Cosa Nostra for him to name his successor. None of the previous dons had lived long after retiring, and with the amount of power the Vongola head, an internal war would be devastating to all Families that got involved. While many within the Family preferred Timoteo's nephews, it was plain to see how much he doted on his son, bastard or not, and the boy revelled in it, terrorizing the lower ranks and the wait staff like a miniature don. No one could be sure if it would be Enrico or Xanxus that was finally named_ il Don Vongola Decimo_.

Tsunayoshi was only a footnote, really. Listed as a candidate as a formality, and then forgotten, just like every other one of Primo's Japanese descendants had been. So unimportant that no one had connected the dots and realized the relationship between some no name boy from Japan and the second most powerful man in the Family. No one wanted a foreign heir, after all.

Reborn sighed, remembering how frantic Iemitsu had sounded when they had spoken on the phone, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. If anyone ever found out about this, it would be a disaster. He looked down at the photos again, staring at the face of the dead man.

_Enrico, you fucking idiot. Why couldn't you have just been patient?_

Who was he kidding? The situation was already a mess, and it was only a miracle that the job had been carried out privately. Reborn fished a lighter from his pocket, fingers itching in a rare craving for nicotine. One by one, he set the photos of Nana alight, watching emotionlessly as the plastic blackened and curled, the smell of chemicals making his nose ache. He stood to stretch, pocketing the rest as proof for the Ninth's private records. There would be a second body going back to Italy with him when he returned. He had already discussed it with Timoteo. Enrico Castellano would be found dead just outside of Firenze, and would be noted as having died in a raid on an enemy Family. The scum would be getting a funeral properly befitting a Vongola heir, whether he deserved it or not.

No one could know of Enrico's role in the murder of the wife of the CEDEF leader and the attack on Tsunayoshi. His attempt to seize the half Vongola rings would never be known outside of Timoteo, Iemitsu, Reborn and the boy whose entire world had been ripped away from him the day before.

Reborn's footsteps were noiseless as he walked across the room, and out into the garden. The child had yet to say a word, lost in his own world of grief and pain, stuck in his memories of the day before. Reborn had had to pry the box containing Iemitsu's half of the Vongola rings out of the boy's fingers while he was still asleep, and the child's reaction when he'd woken up to find it missing had been one of utter panic, until Reborn had shown him that it was stowed safely away in the hitman's luggage. Tsuna had retreated to the garden after that, and had yet to move from his spot under the massive maple tree. Reborn stopped in front of him, then crouched down so that he could look into the boy's eyes after a moment's deliberation.

"Ready to go?"

Dull brown eyes stared blankly up at Reborn, and the boy didn't reply. He'd understood though, Reborn knew that, and so he waited, watching silently.

After a moment, Tsuna blinked, and seemed to rouse himself out of the clouds of grief that surrounded him. "Yeah." He accepted Reborn's help to stand, and brushed himself off before tipping his head back to peer at the man. "We're going to where Tousan is, right?"

Reborn nodded, intuition telling him that having patience was the key to dealing with this child.

Tsuna regarded the dark man quietly, before he asked one more question "He's dead, right? The man that h-hurt Mama."

There was something dangerous in that boy's eyes, Reborn thought, something desperate and hungry and very, very angry. He fought the urge to shiver, and nodded again. "Yes. He won't come after you." He saw dark satisfaction flash in those brown eyes before the boy brushed past him, and headed into the house.

"Good. Tousan told me to make it count."

Watching as he disappeared inside, Reborn shook his head.

They had all been very, very wrong to discount Giotto's last descendant.

x

Tsuna stayed quiet after their exchange in the garden, watching the man as he spoke quietly to Kawahira-san and Mitsuki-baasan. He couldn't make out the words, but from the pitying glances that Mitsuki-baasan kept giving him, Tsuna knew they were talking about him, about what had happened yesterday.

Sighing to ease the uncomfortable knot in his chest, Tsuna's gaze landed on the stranger's luggage. For someone as well dressed as the man was, he certainly travelled light. There was the duffle bag that Tsuna had seen that morning, the one that his father's box was in, a plain black briefcase standing beside it. He looked at the man again, eyes evaluating. He didn't look like a businessman, and this newfound sense inside him confirmed that. The dark man was dangerous, and he needed to be handled with caution.

As if sensing that he was being watched, the man turned, giving a brief wave to Kawahira and his aunt before walking over to Tsuna and holding out his hand. After a second, Tsuna took it, letting the man help him up for the second time. As he was about to pick up his luggage, Tsuna reached out and tugged the back of his suit jacket, making him pause.

"Yes?"

"Uhm... What's your name?"

Black eyes regarded him, a smirk curving the stranger's lips. "Oh? You were all set to go with me without even knowing my name?"

Tsuna gave him a dirty look. "You know Tousan. That means you're not a stranger. I can tell you're not a bad man either."

Those dark eyes shuttered immediately, but Tsuna caught the brief surprise before it was hidden in that piercing gaze. "Reborn. My name is Reborn." He stooped to pick up his luggage, and headed for the front door, pausing to make sure Tsuna was following him.

There was an expensive car parked outside, one that was black and shiny and made of never ending curves, just like the ones Tsuna saw on TV all the time. Reborn opened the door for him, and while he fumbled with the seatbelt, got in and started the car. "All set?"

A click, as the belt finally fastened, and he looked up, nodding before looking out the window as they pulled away from the curb, watching as familiar landmarks flashed past in a blur. He saw the park he used to go to with his Mama, and swallowed, choking back the sudden sick feeling in his throat. He wouldn't think of her, couldn't think of her till he saw his Tousan, until he knew he was safe. Tsuna knew that if he did, it would bring that desperate, terrified feeling back and that only his Tousan would be able to get rid of it this time

All too soon they arrived at the small airport that Namimori boasted, leaving the car behind to board a sleek black private jet. Tsuna had kept his eyes fixed out the window, even during the takeoff, and jumped a bit when he felt Reborn slide into the seat next to him once the landscape of Japan was passing by, fifty thousand feet below them. He had his briefcase in his lap, and Tsuna watched silently as he spun the dials on the lock.

"You're wrong, you know." Reborn's voice was quiet, hinting of dark secrets. Chrome flashed, and Tsuna's eyes widened, staring at the padded interior of the briefcase and the gun inside. "I'm afraid I'm a very bad person, Tsunayoshi."

"Tsuna." Reborn's hands paused, setting down the gun that he'd taken out to polish so that he could look down at the boy beside him. "My name is Tsuna." He stared defiantly at the hitman, daring him to use his full name.

The look he got in reply was faintly mocking, but the Italian nodded after a moment. "Tsuna it is then." He picked up the gun again, hands poised to start polishing the flawless chrome again when small hands tugged the weapon from his hands, startling him.

Without even a hint of self-consciousness, remembering how fascinated he'd been with the handgun his father had shown him on that day at the range, Tsuna tipped the gun over to inspect it. Shooting a look at Reborn from the corner of his eye, he plucked the clip from the gun case and popped it into the gun, suppressing the memories that the action evoked. Pulling the firing pin back and loading a bullet into the chamber, he levelled the gun at Reborn, seeming to stare straight through him. "You only think you're a bad person, Mr. Reborn. You have to try harder if you want to fool me."

The twenty-four year old froze, staring at the boy. He was Reborn, the Vongola's most dangerous hitman, yet here he was, held at gun point with his own gun by a child that seemed to look into his soul. Then those fawn colored eyes blinked owlishly, and the spell was broken. Tsuna dropped the gun back into Reborn's hands, and turned to look out the window. A snicker from the hitman stopped him however, and he fixed the man with another of his blank stares.

"You know kid, you're nothing like what I was told to expect." There was a lazy smile on Reborn's lips, and despite himself, Tsuna found himself smiling back. "You're going to go places, if life doesn't eat you alive."

"It's a good thing I'll have you and Tousan to help me then, right?"

Reborn snorted, settling back to polish imagined smudges off of his gun. "You're too trusting for your own damn good, brat. You know what the mafia is?"

Tsuna shook his head.

"Figures." Satisfied that the gun was spotless, Reborn smoothly unloaded it and holstered it under his jacket, stowing the briefcase under the seat before turning to look Tsuna in the eyes. "The mafia is like the yakuza, but bigger. We do things that are sometimes dangerous, and often against the law, in order to protect our Family. But there are other Families that don't always agree on the best way to protect people. Understand so far?" When Tsuna nodded, Reborn continued. "Bad things happen then. Things like yesterday."

He said nothing, watching Reborn intently.

"That's why you're wrong about me, kid. I make those things happen for other people, other families. And it's why I won't be around to help you. I'll be too busy stopping bad things from happening to our Family. So it's better if you stop thinking you can rely on me now. You have your Papa to help you anyways."

Tsuna stared at Reborn for a minute longer, his gaze inscrutable before looking away, wiggling around in his seat until he was facing the window and comfortable enough to curl up into a ball. Reborn sighed, almost regretting alienating the boy, and draped a blanket from the overhead compartment over him, ruffling his hair familiarly before he turned to find another seat and give the kid some space.

"Mr. Reborn."

He looked back, meeting the mocha-coloured eyes that peeked out from under the blanket that Tsuna had wrapped around himself like a cowl, eyes that were abruptly colder, brighter; eyes that _knew_.

"You will be there to help me. You won't have a choice." His voice had an air of finality. Reborn nodded curtly, and moved down the plane, out of range of that judging gaze.

The rest of the flight passed in silence.

X

Sawada Nana's funeral was a private affair.

Standing in the back of virtually empty Cathedral, Reborn held his fedora against his chest out of respect. The bishop was singing the requiem mass, resplendent in his ceremonial robes despite the fact that dead was a woman, that she was a foreign non-believer. He'd been to so many funerals in his too-short life, so many that he's forgotten the names and faces of all but the first, the most important; he whispers the rites under his breath, crossing himself in time with the holy man, half conscious of his actions because he's too busy watching, observing.

There were nine figures in front of the nave, all of them strong and proud in spotless black suits. If the smallest of them, the one on the end, stood too close to the one beside him, Reborn knew no one would comment. Sawada Tsunayoshi had been eerily calm since the attack a week ago, his eyes shadowed with silent misery since they had touched down in Italy and he'd flung himself into his father's arms.

He never cried.

A storm was howling outside the cathedral, beating rain down in sheets against the windows, and punctuating the mass with peals of thunder and flickers of lightning that illuminated the stained glass grotesquely. It was one of the worst storms that Reborn had ever seen hit this part of Tuscany, and it didn't show any signs of letting up. An ironic smile curved his lips, and he stepped back into the shadows as the mourners; Iemitsu, Tsunayoshi beside him, the Ninth, followed by his guardians, the six of them acting as pall bearers, proceed up the aisle, their pace, slow, unhurried.

If he didn't know as much as he did about the Vongola blood line, Reborn would have written it off as coincidence. But there were legends of the weather reacting to the moods of Don Vongola della Primo, and one look at the boy's hopeless, tortured expression spoke volumes. If the boy wouldn't let himself grieve, then the sky would grieve for him.

He was soaked to the skin within seconds as he followed them out of the cathedral, and the fog that was rising from the ground was swirling up to hide them from view. The Vongola mausoleum was tucked away behind the tiny abbey beside the massive. Nana may never have been fully aware of what Iemitsu was, but as the mother of a blood heir, tradition required that she be interred there. Reborn slid through the gates around the private cemetery just in time, the heavy iron brushing past his arm. Standing in between rows of graves so old that the epitaphs had been eaten away by time and weather, he waited. This was as far as he'd go. He hadn't known Nana in life, and despite his profession, he had a healthy respect for the dead and the ones left behind. He could barely see the crypt through the mist that was getting thicker by the moment, but he knew that they were there; The Ninth's guardians hadn't known her either and they would be following Vongola tradition. Only immediate family was ever allowed inside, and it only opened for someone of Vongola blood.

Peering through the rain and mist, Reborn could make out three more figure's emerging a few minutes later, two of them tall and thin, the last barely coming up to their chest. The bishop, Timoteo and Tsuna. He sighed, scraping his drenched hair out of his face, and settled his fedora on top to keep it out of his eyes. Iemitsu would be inside alone now, saying his final goodbyes. The crypt would not be reopened until the next time someone of the bloodline died. It was _tradition_.

As he walked over to the group, Reborn could tell that the boy was paler than normal, paler than that day in the garden, when he'd been almost as still as death. There were dark bruises under his eyes, and his skin was waxy and ashen. Pressed against Timoteo's side, the Ninth's arm around him protectively, the boy seemed to shrink in on himself, like there was something sucking out everything inside him. The guardians nodded to him respectfully as he approached, and Timoteo gave him a sad smile. Schnitten was holding out an umbrella, shielding Timoteo and Tsuna from the rain even though they were already soaked through, and Reborn stopped just outside of that, crouching down to be on Tsuna's level, cursing the boy's stubbornness inwardly. Under the sodden mop of hair, under the watery tracks left by raindrops, Tsuna's face was dry, devoid of the tears that by all rights should have come long ago.

"Hey brat." He reached out and pushed the boy's chin up so that he could look into those cloudy brown eyes that had seemed so clear when they'd been on the jet. "I guess you're right, for now. I'm still hanging around."

There was recognition in those eyes now, a feeble hope and a hint of life. "Mis-Mr. Reborn?" The child's voice was raspy, and Reborn wondered how many nights he'd woken up screaming from nightmares. He nodded, ignoring the gathering around them. He frowned, looking at the boy in disappointment.

"Didn't I warn you not to let this life eat you alive?"

That was all it took. One moment he was looking the boy in the eye, trying to ignore the mess soaking into his pants, and the next he was flat on his back, mud squelching underneath him uncomfortably. Tsuna was a dead weight on his chest, a frail, shivering mess with his face buried against Reborn's chest, as sobs shuddered through his too-thin frame so hard they threatened to shake him apart. Pushing his back up out of the mud, he wrapped one arm around the boy, glaring over Tsuna's head at the guardians and Timoteo, daring them to say a word. His fedora lay in the mud just out of arm's reach, hopelessly covered in the sludge, and his hair was in his face again, dripping cold trails down his neck and cheeks. The rain was coming down harder, stinging like icy needles against his skin and the thunder was deafening, one never ending rumble that shook the ground. The boy was wailing into his shirt, his voice lost in the shriek of the wind, screaming out his grief and pain. Reborn found himself lifted bodily to his feet after lightning struck dangerously close to the mausoleum, Tsuna cradled in his arms and clutching his shirt in a death grip. The guardians were yelling, their voices torn away by the storm, but Timoteo was gesturing at the crypt, arguing with Schnitten while Ganauche pulled at his arm, pointing to where Visconti and Bouche were fighting to get the gate open.

Another bolt of lightning struck, pulverizing a headstone nearby and galvanizing Reborn into action. He took off across the cemetery, ankle deep mud sucking at his feet and the weight of Tsuna in his arms threatening to throw him off balance. His foot slipped on a rock hidden by the mire, and pain shot through his ankle as it gave out.

He clutched Tsuna tighter to his chest, preparing to take the weight of their fall when Coyote was suddenly at his side, arm around Reborn's waist to stop the fall. The older man was saying something, but the storm ripped the words away. Tsuna's grasp on him tightened painfully when the guardian tried to pull him away from Reborn, thin silk cutting into the back of his neck as the boy pulled harder on his shirt. He shook his head sharply at Coyote, gasping in pain as he stepped down on the ankle that had just twisted. He was no stranger to pain though, so he soldiered on, gritting his teeth as each step sent agony shooting up his calf, Coyote close behind him. By the time they reached the gate, Reborn could hear almost normally again, the cathedral blocking out the worst of the storm, and he could finally make out what the other man was telling him.

"Go on without me! Junior should be out front with the limo, I've got to go back—Timoteo doesn't want to leave Iemitsu, and he won't listen to reason!" The man left Reborn leaning against the cold stone of the cathedral, disappearing back into the storm.

Cursing in pain, Reborn shifted Tsuna to the hip of his good leg, sending silent thanks to God for making the boy so small that he could still be carried like that, even at his age. Leaning heavily against the wall, he hobbled to the corner, where the wiry sun guardian was waiting. The storm wasn't so fierce outside the cemetery, the wind quieting down to a dull roar, and the rain was softer, no longer threatening to strip the flesh from his bones. With the other man's help, Reborn slid into the back of the limo with Tsuna in his lap, grimacing as his clothes clung to him wetly. The quiet in the vehicle was deafening, and it took him a few moments to realize what the boy was whispering, his sobs having finally died down.

"Mama no... Don't leave!"

He'd never admit it, but Reborn's chest ached in sympathy, remembering those words echoed by another little boy years ago, and he gathered Tsuna close against him, rocking him slowly. "I know, Tsuna, I know. I know it hurts."

"Make it stop..." Tsuna hiccupped, shuddering as another sob tore through him. "Make it stop hurting, Reborn! Please!"

The hitman sighed, and tucked the boy's head under his chin, leaning his cheek against his hair. "I can't, Tsuna. I wish I could, but the hurt never goes away. You get used to it after a while, trust me." He'd never believed in lying to children, hadn't believed in the words _it'll be alright_ since he was five and his father hadn't come home, but this once, Reborn wished he could bring himself to say them.

"I want my Mama... I want her back, Reborn. I want my Mama back!"

"Hush, Tsuna. It's time to stop crying now." Tsuna's tears were hot against his neck, keening whimpers escaping him as he finally gave in, crying brokenly.

"Bring her back. Bring her back..."

Outside, the storm finally broke; the sun barely beginning to break through the clouds.


	4. Punch the Clock

Feed the Fire

chapter 4

disclaimer: don't own, don't sue. :(

notes: this should be the last of the "slow" chapters, but at the same time, there may be a bit of a delay before chapter 5. I've hit a bit of a stumbling block for writing chapter 5, but I _will_ get it done!

The church bells were ringing, muted tones rolling down the deserted hallways of the Vongola estate as Reborn made his way towards the Ninth's private office. The cathedral would be packed to the rafters today as the Family gathered to pay respect to one of its heirs. His lips twisted at the irony, doubly grateful that he didn't have to attend the funeral. No one else knew of Enrico's traitorous actions, so, in order to keep up the pretence that he had died at the hands of a rival Family, the trash had to be interred in the Vongola crypt, right beside the woman he'd killed.

Reborn shook his head; as much as the Ninth valued him, it wasn't his place to question Family politics. Being idle for the last two weeks were getting to him more than he'd thought. He hadn't stayed in one place for so long since he'd become a hitman at eighteen. It had been mission after mission, surviving on adrenaline and prayers for the last six years, only stealing moments of relaxation when he was absolutely sure he could let his guard down. Inaction meant freedom to think, which inevitably brought memories he'd really rather not think about.

To say Reborn was upset was understating the obvious. He'd been expecting to drop the into Iemitsu's waiting arms, make his report on the attack to the Ninth, and then take off again. He hadn't expected the old man to smile gently at him and fix him with a look that brought back thoughts of that uncomfortable discussion with the brat on the plane. He hadn't even had a chance to protest when the smile grew and Timoteo proclaimed that it had been far too long since Reborn had taken a time off and while he was far too valuable to allow Timoteo to send halfway across the world on vacation, surely staying at the compound for a few weeks would be a nice break?

Pausing at a pair of heavy oak doors, inlaid with the Vongola crest in gold leaf, the hitman took a deep breath, and gathered himself for the upcoming discussion. He wouldn't let himself be shanghaied again. Come Hell or high water, Reborn would find a way to get out of Italy. He had an uncomfortable feeling that the Ninth was planning something, and that he wouldn't want any part of it.

Knocking once and receiving a muffled "Enter" in reply, he stepped into the office. The curtains had been drawn, and the only light came from the lamp on Timoteo's desk. Letting the door swing shut behind him, Reborn stopped in front of the desk, letting his eyes adjust to the sudden darkness while he waited for Timoteo to acknowledge him, his hands clasped neatly behind him. As the room slowly faded back into view, Reborn could make out the hulking form of Iemitsu, standing guard behind the Don's left shoulder, Coyote mirroring him to the left. The silence in the room was smothering and the scratch of Timoteo's pen on paper echoed in his ears. A drop of sweat rolled down the back of his neck, and Reborn ruthless squashed the urge to fidget, though his mind was running at a breakneck pace, an uncomfortable premonition gnawing at him.

What was going on? The last report he'd gotten from his informants had said that everything was peaceful, or as close to peaceful as life could get in the Cosa Nostra. The silence stretched on for an eternity before the Ninth set down his pen, and pinned Reborn with eyes that seared. "Reborn."

He straightened, lifting his chin. His blood felt like it was on fire as adrenaline rushed into his veins. "Sir?"

"You are a member of the Vongola Famiglia, are you not?" There were flames in Timoteo's eyes, burning away all the denials that sprung to Reborn's lips.

"I... Yes, Don Timoteo." His head spun, the Ninth's aura settling across his shoulders like an oppressive mantle. It was getting hard to breath, but he couldn't look away from the eyes that had him frozen in place. Those dark eyes, normally so calm and kind, had turned amber, burning from within and seemed to see past everything to what Reborn really was on the inside.

"And you would do anything, even give your life, your soul to protect it, am I correct?"

He answered without thinking. "Of course, Don Timoteo."

Then the Ninth smiled, and the oppressive weight disappeared. Reborn's breath left him in a rush, and despite years of etiquette, he found himself groping for a chair, sinking into it thankfully. His head was still spinning, and at times it seemed as if there were two Vongola Nonos watching him with gentle amusement until the sensation faded, and the hitman was able to think clearly again. "Timoteo, what?"

"A test." The older man's voice was faintly apologetic, and he turned to nod at the burly guardian standing behind him. "Please step out for a moment, Coyote. I'll be fine with Iemitsu and Reborn." The man looked as if he wanted to protest, but after a moment he nodded, and the door thudded shut behind him shortly after that. "Now then," The edge was back in the Vongola leader's voice, but there was none of that oppressive weight from the moment before. "I hope you realize the utter gravity of what we're about to discuss, Reborn. I hesitated to bring you into this because of your age and history, but circumstances have forced my hand." The hitman was silent, waiting, though he'd scowled when the Ninth mentioned his age. "Enrico's cowardly actions have set things into motion that never should have started. There are rumours going through the Cosa Nostra now, rumours I can't afford to deny, that with Enrico's death, Xanxus all but owns the title of Decimo. Certainly, if things continue to spiral out of my control, this may wind up becoming reality. For too long, he has been the only heir that showed any promise, and it was only formalities that have delayed the Inheritance Ceremony." The older man stood, pacing behind the desk as Iemitsu moved forward to take the other seat to Reborn's left.

Reborn watched the older man, brow raised in question. "What of Massimo, and Frederico?"

Timoteo paused briefly, chuckling. "Sadly, neither of them are fit to take the title. All that my brother's remaining son cares for is his next night of carousing, and increasing the number of bastards he sires. And my sister has kept Frederico utterly sheltered. Having our mother sacrifice herself so that I could live has soured her opinion towards the Famiglia. She's never forgiven me for Daniella's death. No, I'm afraid that Frederico would be more suited to entering the priesthood, especially if my sister gets her way."

Nodding, Reborn agreed. "I was beginning to wonder if you were even reading the reports I sent you on them. Then why don't you just announce Xanxus as your heir, and get it over with, Timoteo? The longer you wait, the more likely it becomes that there'll be a repeat of..." He trailed off, grimacing at the agonized expression on Iemitsu's face.

The Ninth stopped behind his desk, both hands planted firmly on the surface as he leaned forward. His face was fierce, no longer the kind grandfather, but more like a seasoned veteran as he snapped a reply, voice hushed and full of regret. "Because he is not my son!"

Silence. The youngest of the men found himself staring at Timoteo in shock. There had been anomalies about the boy's history, for sure, but he'd never suspected a secret this deep. The fact that the Ninth had kept it hidden so expertly only added another layer to Reborn's respect for the man. If his own intelligentsia couldn't crack this secret, he doubted that anyone had any idea that Xanxus was anything less than what he claimed to be.

It was Iemitsu's quiet voice that snapped him out of his introspective. "But he is Vongola, right? That's all that matters." His gaze was sharp, watching Timoteo like a hawk.

"Yes, from both sides of his history. Ricardo's rage breeds true, despite the generations." The old man's shoulders sagged, and he sank back into his chair. "It will complicate matters, especially if I were to name him as my successor. Ricardo's reputation left him as the most feared Don Vongola of us all. The consequences from the rest of the Cosa Nostra, the restrictions they would try to impose... Xanxus would destroy us all, and everything the Vongola has worked for."

"So it all comes down to Tsunayoshi, then." Reborn mused idly, looking up at the dark rafters.

"Yes. The only valid heir to Giotto's blood, which seems to have bred just as true. I've never seen a dying will as strong as his." Beside him, Iemitsu jerked, eyes wide. Timoteo only smiled sadly in response. "Yes, Iemitsu, he's been on the verge of manifesting the flame ever since that night. You didn't realize it?"

The blonde shook his head slowly, dragging one hand across his face. "No. To be honest, I've been working on autopilot for the last two weeks. I've barely even had a chance to see my son, much less sit down and talk to him." He sighed, looking up at the Ninth blearily. "I'm sorry Timoteo. Losing Nana hit me hard. It won't happen again."

"It's fine Iemitsu. It's understandable in this situation. Nevertheless, Tsunayoshi has been unconsciously pulling on his dying will continuously. It's unbelievable that he has that level of control over it at such a young age, but I'm afraid that we can't afford to leave him half trained and hope he settles as he gets past the trauma. He could have very easily killed someone with that storm he brewed up. The Family can't afford to have such a powerful flame going rogue, no matter what the excuse is. I hope you can understand that." The Don paused to gather his thoughts, frowning in irritation. "In addition, the wolves have been sniffing around. They want to know who he is, and why the head of CEDEF has such a young child staying in his apartments."

Iemitsu cursed, slumping into his seat. "What have you told them, Timoteo?"

"That Tsunayoshi is one of CEDEF's new recruits. But Iemitsu, we cannot afford to shelter him much longer. You cannot deny the resemblance between the two of you, or worse, his uncanny resemblance to Don Primo." Timoteo grimaced, offering the blonde a silent apology. "He must be relocated, before anyone realizes your relationship to him. I don't think it needs to be said, but if the Family realized how invested you really are, it could be devastating." Iemitsu nodded, not trusting himself to reply, and that sinking feeling in Reborn's stomach intensified and coagulated until he knew exactly what his boss was planning, in perfect clarity.

"Timoteo, please tell me you're not planning what I think you are. You can't. I won't do it!" He was standing now, nearly yelling at the older man. "You can't do this! Iemitsu, say something, dammit!"

"Calm yourself, Reborn!" Timoteo snapped at him, lips thin with disappointment. "You're the only person strong enough and trusted enough to take this job. I have not asked much of you, until now, Reborn. Every mission you've been given has been well within the scope of your abilities, and I've indulged your eccentricities long enough. You are Vongola, and it is time you came home to roost."

The hitman stood there frozen, hands clenched at his sides, and jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He longed to argue with Timoteo, to storm out of the room, but that tone brooked no disobedience. His freedom to roam was finally done and over with. "Yes _sir_." As he dropped back into the plush chair, part of him acknowledged that he was acting more like a child than a hardened hitman, but damn it, he didn't care. He'd been running for six years, using the Vongola name as a shield against his past. The knowledge that he'd wrapped himself up in shackles stronger than steel drove the breath from him, and all Reborn could find the strength to do was glare sulkily at his boss.

The Don sighed, rubbing his forehead irritably. "Reborn, you will be taking Tsuna as your apprentice—" He held up his other hand to forestall Iemitsu's protests. "I'm sorry Iemitsu, but it's the only choice. The Cosa Nostra will never expect that Sawada Tsunayoshi is anywhere but in Japan where he belongs, and we will be able to give him the protection and guidance that he needs under the guise of Toyotomi Ietsuna."

There was a strangled noise from Iemitsu, pain flashing across his face briefly before he managed to wrestle his emotions back. "H-Her maiden name, eh? It's fitting, Timoteo." The blonde bit his thumb, worrying at the skin nervously. "But with all due respect sir, the Vongola can't afford to lose Reborn's services. Even as his apprentice, Tsuna won't be fit to accompany Reborn on missions for a while yet. Who will guard him when Reborn isn't available?"

"Do you doubt that I'd be able to keep my charge safe and still accomplish my goals?" The question was growled, and Reborn wished he hadn't left Leon or his other guns in his suite. A gun aimed at his head would make the idiot think twice about underestimating him. Black eyes met brown and sparked in with silent violence.

"The Varia will guard him."

Both men jerked, their heads snapping around to face Timoteo simultaneously. "What! No way. No way in Hell are you letting those homicidal maniacs anywhere near Tsuna! My son—"

"Iemitsu, this is another of those things that are not up for discussion. I've already spoken to Tyr. He's agreed to allow Tsunayoshi temporary sanctuary with the Varia whenever circumstances force him to stay behind." There was an edge in Timoteo's voice that belied the gentle smile on his face. "He is strong, Iemitsu. He'll survive this and anything the Varia throw at him." He paused, picking up his pen to scribble his signature across the bottom of a document, then set the seal alight with his flame. He looked apologetic as he held the parchment out to Reborn, who took it reluctantly. "Besides, that's where Reborn will be headed as soon as this meeting adjorns."

"So soon!" The denial in Iemitsu's voice was palpable. Reborn scowled, shooting Timoteo a glare full of venom, but didn't bother to protest. "If that's all, Timoteo?" He didn't bother waiting for the Ninth's affirmation, and was already halfway out the door when he paused to look back at the older men, his shadow stretching across the floor. "I won't forget this, Don Timoteo. This is not what I agreed to when I swore loyalty to the Vongola." He let the door thud shut behind him. The church bells were silent now, but he could hear the echoes of the Family resuming their daily activities in other wings of the mansion, the sound barely more than a whisper. Glancing down at the orders in his hand, Reborn snarled, crushing the document in one hand before stalking down the hall, wearing his frustration like a mantle.

He would have laughed at the sight of made men scrambling to get out of his way, if he was thinking straight.


	5. I'm The Type to Take It Personally

Disclaimer: I don't own KHR, I just like to play God.

Notes: Sorry for the _huge_ delay guys! I had a lot of real life crap to work out, as well as writer's block. Everything is somewhat sorted out now though, so hopefully I can get back to a somewhat speedy posting schedule.

Warnings: More canon!rape ahoy! This chapter is **unbeta'd**, but I hope I kept Tsuna's personality development _somewhat_ believable. I can explain everything, really!

_I am looking for a beta! Please email me if you're interested! Must be willing to tweak characterizations; I have grammar and spelling pretty well covered. MSN or AIM messengers is a plus, but not required._

* * *

The room was silent except for the occupants' breathing.

"Ready... Mark."

The smaller of the two flew into action as his observer started the timer in his hand. Nimble hands flew across the assembled pieces lying on the table in front of him, sharp clicks and brief scraping noises accompanying his movements. Seconds ticked by before he stilled, brown eyes snapping up to look at his mentor.

"Six point eight. You're getting faster."

Tsuna let his breath out in a huff of disappointment, twisting to slip the pistol into into it's holster at the small of his back. It had been three months since Reborn had made him start wearing it, and he still couldn't get used to the weight. "So, target practise?" He asked hopefully, scratching the side of his neck.

Reborn checked the watch on his wrist, then shook his head, beginning to clear away the gun kit. "No. My flight leaves in two hours, and Tyr will be arriving shortly to pick you up."

"When will I be able to go with you, Reborn?"

The hitman stilled at the unexpected question, looking down at the boy in front of him. "You're only ten, Tsuna, and as the heir– "

"That's not what I asked, Reborn! You promised me! You promised I could help protect the Famiglia!" His voice hitched, and Tsuna looked away, blinking back frustrated tears. "You told Tou-san that I was learning even faster than you did! And you're the best! So why can't I go with you?"

The Italian stared at the boy for a tense moment, before he drew the gun in his chest holster and fired rapidly to the side, each shot landing in fatal locations on the target without him looking. "That. When you do can do that, that's when you can help me with hits. Not a second before." He re holstered the gun sharply, and turned his back on the boy. "Tyr will be here in twenty minutes. Be packed and ready. You won't make me have to come find you if you know what's good for you, Tsunayoshi."

Wrinkling his nose as the gunpowder in the air made him want to sneeze, Tsuna glared at the door his guardian has just disappeared through as he made his way over to the hanging paper target on the far side of the room. "I'm nearly eleven." He sighed, tugging the used target down. "And when Reborn was twelve, people were already calling him _Little Executioner_." The paper rustled as he dropped the target into the trash on his way out, flicking off the light behind him. By the time he finished packing several changes of clothes, as well as making sure his own gun kit was in order, he had five minutes left until the Varia leader was scheduled to arrive. Secretly, Tsuna was terrified of the man, not that he'd admit it. His father, Reborn and the Ninth all seemed to trust him, so he knew there wasn't anything he should be afraid of, but... Tyr was always so grim. Grey eyes, grey clothes, grey personality. If Tsuna didn't know better, he'd swear the man was a statue brought to life for all the expression that was ever shown, but he knew the man had judged him, and found him lacking.

He flopped back on his bed with a huff, covering his eyes with a pillow. He'd still prefer to be going with Reborn but... This would be his first time going to the Varia headquarters. All of Reborn's assignments in the past few months had been close enough that having Tyr watch over him for a day or two was all that was needed, but this time Reborn would be gone for a month. As disappointed at being left behind as he was, Tsuna couldn't help but be excited at the same time. The Varia stronghold was also home to the Vongola private school; There had to be kids his age there!

Sitting up on one elbow suddenly, the boy raised one hand in front of him, staring at the ring that was sparkling on the third finger. His father and the Ninth had met with him just before he went into hiding with Reborn, and explained the way they lived. All the unspoken rules of the mafia, and all the traditions they lived by. He'd been trying to ignore it, pretending this new life was some kind of huge adventure, but when he had nothing to do, he had to face reality. Great-Uncle said that unofficially, Tsuna was _erede principale_, and that the sooner he started to gather his guardians, the better.

He knew that the faster he found his protectors, the safer he'd be but he couldn't help worrying. Back home he'd been Dame Tsuna, the person that everyone went to when they needed a favour, but not important enough to consider a friend. How was he supposed to convince people to follow him, to give up their _lives_ for him if he couldn't do the same for them? Why couldn't Reborn understand that?

Sitting up, his hands clenched into fists as the now familiar burn roared to life in his chest. Fine. He had a month. He'd show Reborn that he was ready. He'd master the quick shot from earlier, and he'd start looking for his guardians. _No..._ A grin stole across his face.

No, he'd start looking for his new friends.

* * *

A week later, and Tsuna was still alone and moody.

He'd known, with his tenuous situation as a person of interest, that he wouldn't be allowed to stay with the Varia once Reborn got back, but he'd still looked forward to making friends. But somehow; and he wouldn't put it past Reborn to do something like this; somehow the entire school seemed to know that he wasn't going to be around for long and that associating with him was _dangerous. _Even back in Namimori it hadn't been this bad. He'd just been Dame Tsuna there, the boy that failed at everything, the one that even the girls thought of as harmless. But here, in the heart of the mafia, everyone knew him as Toyotomi Ietsuna, apprentice to the legendary hitman, Reborn and there were god knows how many rumours about him flying around.

It had taken him a week to figure out what was going on, confused and agitated by staff's distant respect and the student's silent fear of him. Rooms went silent when he entered and he was starting to feel like he was walking through the world where the sound had been turned off when he finally overheard two girls whispering about the scary transfer student and the puzzle fell into place.

_They were scared of him_. The entire school, all the way up into the high school years, were terrified of him and his rumoured reputation. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry when he heard what was going around. Him? Single-handedly ending a gang war between rival yakuza? Or how about the one where he wiped out an entire Triad faction after one of them insulted his mother?

He tried very hard not to think about that one, and the terrible memories it dredged up.

All in all, it was enough to send even him into a fury, which was why he was hiding in the stronghold's armoury, emptying clip after clip into the gun targets as he vented his frustration. He could fire almost as fast as Reborn now, but being fast just wasn't good enough. He needed accuracy too, and judging by the latest target, there would be no accompanying Reborn, probably ever. The paper looked like swiss cheese, with holes all over instead of inside kill zones.

Tsuna crumpled the heavy paper into a ball and threw it towards the trash with a snarl. His hair was hanging in his face, damp with sweat, and he brushed it out of his face roughly, staring at the fresh target he'd just put up. "What am I doing wrong, Reborn? I can get the first two on target but from there, it's just no good..."

"Cause the gun's too big for a pipsqueak like you, moron."

"Eh!" Tsuna spun around, startled by the voice. Of course, nature took the chance to re-assert itself just when he was off-balance, and the next thing he knew, he was on his hands and knees, staring at the person's fine Italian boots.

"So you're the trash Reborn adopted." The man scoffed as Tsuna scrambled to his feet, face burning. "Don't see what's so special, you're just some no name scum like the rest of the idiots here."

Tsuna bit his lip, fighting back his anger like Reborn told him to, until it felt like cold fire in his stomach. "And you're different, how?" There was fire in his eyes, angry and defensive as he stared up at the newcomer, sneering uncharacteristically at the man in his expensive suit and the strange feathers in his hair. "You look like just another made man to me." He tilted his head, and added. "Though I don't think I've ever seen one with half a dead bird in their hair before."

Rage sparked in the man's dark eyes, and in a split-second he found himself arched painfully backwards by the grip on his neck, the rifle counter digging into his spine. "What did you say, scum!"

It was hard to breath with the mafioso's fingers digging into his throat, but Tsuna swallowed all the rebellious comebacks that sprung to mind, keeping his voice calm and bitingly polite. "Release me. Please."

Calloused fingers dug harder into his throat, and Tsuna gagged, choking for air. His attacker leaned forward, his face close enough that Tsuna could smell aftershave and gunpowder on his skin, and that dark voice, ice cold, hissed into his ear. "Apologize like a good little boy and maybe I won't kill you, trash."

_Vongola never apologize._ Reborn's words warred against Tsuna's flight instinct as panic set in, then something snapped, and suddenly it felt like his blood was on fire as all of the frustration, the anger, and the buried guilt inside of him ignited. The handle of his pistol was cool under his fingers, and Tsuna didn't know how but the muzzle was pressed flush against the man's temple. He felt detached from his feelings as he stared the man down, finger steady on the trigger. "I said, get your hands off me. Now do it, before I blow your brains out."

There was a tense moment, before the man laughed, rich and dark as sin, and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest. No longer starving for air, Tsuna rubbed his throat, and eyed the man warily, studying him as Reborn's lessons kicked in.

The first thing Tsuna noticed, other than the strange feathers in his hair, was that the man wasn't as old as he'd thought. Not that it made much of a difference; If his estimates were right, the Italian was still close to being twice his age. The second thing were the twin handguns on his hips, polished chrome gleaming under the fluorescent lights. He shivered, unsettled; If the other had been a little less angry, he could have gone for his guns.

The final thing was the Vongola crest embroidered in gold on his lapel, and the brunet froze as he recognized it.

Tsuna'd had the history of the Famiglia drilled into his head for a month by Reborn before the hitman even considered allowing him near a gun; He had to make sure that the future Don Decimo knew exactly what he was inheriting after all. Part of that had included the significance of the coat of arms, and what each element signified. It was the worst kept secret of the Cosa Nostra families that the Vongola didn't bother to hide their ruling Family.

Publicly, the Vongola shield featured a bullet, but for those that were in the direct line to inherit, it was surmounted by a crown.

Like this man. Like _Enrico._

Tsuna understood very well what had happened that day three months ago now. His mother had died because Enrico had been _scared_, scared of _this _man_,_ and staring him down, Tsuna understood why acutely.

He really should have recognized him immediately.

Tsuna swallowed thickly, and holstered his own gun, belatedly realizing that it was still in his hand, and inclined his head. "Xanxus."

One brow arched, before the man smirked, slow and predatory and Tsuna knew he was being sized up. "Shrimp."

His pride twinged, but he glared back at the the Italian and lifted his chain to meet his eyes steadily. "My name is Toyotomi. Ietsuna Toyotomi."

Xanxus snorted, "If I want to call you shrimp, I will. Got it?" The dismissive tone made Tsuna bristle in annoyance. He huffed, and turned his back, ignoring the voice screaming _danger!_ in the back of his head, and picked up his second pistol from where it sat forgotten beside him. He was silent as he reloaded it, and took aim. Xanxus's dark gaze made him fidget uncomfortably, and even as he squeezed the trigger, he knew that his aim was off, undeniably so. The boy grit his teeth regardless, and continued, bracing himself as the percussion from the rounds slammed down his arms.

He was in the middle of reloading a third time, when Xanxus spoke again. "You're too stiff, kid. Don't know what that bastard is teaching you, but being all tense like that, you're gonna be no good for anything but sniper work."

Tsuna rocked back on his heels, staring at his unwanted companion as half formed fears blazed into frightening clarity. Reborn _wouldn't..._ He'd _promised!_ But Reborn was loyal to the Ninth first, and Tsuna last, and so yes, he very well _could_ have if Timoteo wanted it. "What did you say?" There was something dark and quiet in Xanxus's eyes, and Tsuna looked away, feeling ill. Underneath his shirt, the Vongola ring was like lead against his chest, and Tsuna just _knew. For your own good_, they'd say and he should have _known!_

Something must have shown on his face, because Xanxus made a disgusted noise, and turned to leave. "Two things, if you plan on surviving in this world." He held up one finger. "One: Don't trust anybody but yourself, not even your closest blood, and two..." He looked back, wrapped in his superiority as he smirked down at Tsuna. "Get a smaller fucking gun."

* * *

Tsuna was feeling triumphant.

He'd given up on making friendly advances towards the students at the academy, and threw himself into his marksman practice, after taking Xanxus' advice to heart. His aim was better with a smaller, lighter gun, but the real change came when he forced himself to realize that the teenager was right. Reborn lied, the Ninth lied, hell, even his _father_ was lying to him! He himself was the only person that could never lie to him, or hide their motivations. The Vongola ring was a heavy reminder of the lessons that came with it, that as one of the Sky, (_and Tsuna still thought __**that**__ sounded like a fairytale but Reborn had been so __**serious**_**.**) he was supposed to support and trust his family, but how could he when they were the ones lying?

So he'd taken to all but living in the Varia armoury, and leaving his worries at the door.

With a gun in his hand, he _became_ Ietsuna, in personality, as well as assumed name. Tsuna's skin and hair stunk of gunpowder, and his fingertips were covered in soot that left dark smudges on his cheeks whenever he rubbed away an itch, and when he bothered to listen to the gossip in the hallways, he knew how much of a mess he was, and how many bets were flying around on who was going to die once he left on whatever mission Reborn was sure to give him. He'd even seen Xanxus floating around, though he usually _heard_ the man's companion before he even saw either of them. Squalo, the school's prodigal swordsman, had taken to following Xanxus around like a loud, angry puppy and there were as many rumours flying around about the two of them that Tsuna no longer felt singled out by the gossip mongers, though the ring burned against his chest every time a student mentioned the other Vongola heir. He'd almost thrown it away after what Xanxus had revealed, but his subconscious urged him not to, and Tsuna was nothing if not stubborn.

Clipping up a fresh target, Tsuna pressed the button on the rifle counter to send it to the end of the gun range, and shook his head. To think that he, good old Dame Tsuna, would be any good with a gun! No one dared to observe his practices here at the academy, but he'd seen what a few of the school's so called prodigies were capable of, and just _knew_ he was better than they were. The fact that no one expected Ietsuna to fail felt incredible, and for once in his life, Tsuna found himself actually meeting his potential at something. He'd mastered Reborn's casual feat of rapid fire, and was working on familiarizing himself with an array of weaponry, starting, ironically, with the school's lone M98B sniper rifle . Reborn would be arriving today, and he wanted to show the man that his plans had _failed._

Tsuna took a deep breath and raised the gun. He was about to fire when the door of the armour scraped against the floor quietly, and he lowered the gun, but didn't turn around. "The range is in use. Do you need something?" He kept his tone polite, despite his irritation. If this fool, whoever it was, messed up his plans–

"Excuse me, Toyotomi. I wanted to... I have business to discuss with you. Sir." The anxiety and youth of the speaker had Tsuna turning around in a heartbeat, and it was all he could do to keep from staring when he recognized the boy standing just inside the armoury entrance. Green eyes, slightly obscured glasses and the boy's platinum hair, were looking at everything _but _him while his hands, long fingered and agile, worried at the hem of his shirt.

Tsuna winced, seeing his old self in the blond's nervous posture. He sighed, and leaned back against the counter, arms cross and pistol dangling casually from his fingers. "Get in here, and make it quick. I'm busy." Irritation added an edge to his voice, and he barely kept himself from apologizing and ruining the dangerous image he was trying to portray, but the boy nodded, and quickly followed his directions.

"I'm–" He began, before Tsuna cut him off impatiently, praying he could pull off what he was about to do successfully, or intimidate the boy enough that he would leave him in peace.

"Gokudera Hayato, or that's how you'd be introducing yourself if we were in your mother's homeland. Eleven years old, bastard son of Arsenio Russo, Don Quinto of the Fieri and the late pianist, Gokudera Utako." Tsuna eyed the boy as he listed off the details he knew about his classmate's private life, all of which had been given to him before Reborn had left him with Tyr. "You're estranged from your father and older sister Bianchi and currently live with your guardian, Trident Shamal. You specialize in explosives and demolition, have the highest grade point average of your year, and coincidentally, we are in the split six-seven class together. Am I missing anything?"

Hayato gaped at him, before composing himself so fast his teeth clicked. "No... No, that's... everything." He replied shakily. There was an awkward pause that shattered as Gokudera cursed and raked his hair back from his eyes. "I want you to kill my father. I can afford it, don't worry!"

Tsuna's jaw dropped, caught flat-footed by the other boy's blunt admission. "I... Excuse me?" He knew how bad Gokudera's life was, had read the file, just like he'd read all the others Reborn had forced on him. The boy was caught in limbo– As Russo's son, he should have been _erede principale_ to the Fieri, but as a bastard, he couldn't claim it, and as Russo's son, no other famiglia would ever trust him with its secrets. Tsuna had watched him in class, had seen how the boy outshone the rest of their classmates, but kept everyone at bay with a shield of desperate bravado. They called him _Smoking Bomb_ to his face, but laughed and called him _Runaway Hayato_ as soon as his back was turned.

Yes, he had it bad, but to call an entire famiglia down on himself? He wasn't insane, he was suicidal!

As Tsuna watched in stunned amazement, the blond pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit up. "He's gotta die. It's the only way, Toyotomi." Gokudera blew out a stream of smoke, and began to pace, agitation written in every line of his body like a predator stuck in a cage too small. "You don't know what it's _like!_ I've been asking around, asking the allied families to take me in. All of them, even the fucking useless Tomassos! They all told me to go fuck myself, and it's all cause of him! He's got me blacklisted, I know it, you know it, the whole god damn country knows it. Poor little Runaway Hayato, run out of the mafia so he's gotta turn into a civvy." He stopped, staring hungrily at Tsuna with eyes the colour of poison. "Well I'm not gonna let him."

Tsuna stared back, mind racing.

It was tempting.

It was perfect.

Reborn had called the Fieri "upstart little shits", and ultimately, Tsuna knew his association with the Vongola would keep him safe from any reprisals. Anxiety turned to excitement as plans started to fall into place. He needed to prove himself, and here was someone needing protection. Tsuna found himself smiling as he held his hand out for the boy to shake, pushing away the sick, twisting feeling in his stomach.

Hayato's answering grin was feral, and Tsuna knew that if he pulled it off, he'd have the boy's loyalty for now and forever.


	6. Points of Authority

Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.

Notes: I've been sitting on this for a while, trying to find a way to break into the next scene, without any luck. KHR isn't my main fandom anymore, which makes it even harder. One would think I'd learn not to fandom hop by now.

Anyways, sorry this is so short. The next set of scenes deal with the hit, but I have no idea when I'll be able to get it done. This is also semi-beta'd, so if there's any glaring errors with Gokudera, I'm to blame.

* * *

When he stopped to think about how easy he thought it all would be, Tsuna wanted to laugh. There were so many possibilities that he had to check... Thankfully Gokudera was willing to take an active role, or he knew he would have been hopelessly lost. As it was, he had four days to finalize his plans; Reborn's delayed return coincided neatly with the scheduled conference of Dons to discuss the school and the shady dealings that were necessary to keep it hidden from the police. It was likely to be the only chance he'd get; He'd learnt enough to realize that Nono had issued a communications blackout about him, one that was effectively disintegrating the longer he was here at the academy. The more the students knew, the more the Famiglias knew. They would know exactly just how many hours a day he practice, how accurate he was, and what weapons he preferred by the time he left in four days.

No, when everything, all the maps and blueprints that Gokudera had hacked out of the academy's servers, and all the observations about security that Tsuna had done, were taken into account, he had ten minutes before the chance was gone forever.

Ten minutes to get in and get ready, to make the shot.

Ten minutes to kill a man.

Tsuna sat back and scrubbed his hand across tired brown eyes. Gokudera had approached him two days ago, and Tsuna hadn't slept well since. He knew he looked even worse than he had in the last few weeks, his skin waxy and faint shadows starting to show around his eyes. He'd dreamt of his mother, and his life back in Namimori last night. The life he would have been living if nothing had happened; a normal life, what his every day life should have been – except it wasn't. Everywhere he went, people stared at him accusingly. It was even worse than being Dame-Tsuna, and he'd never thought that anything could have been worse than being bullied and ridiculed behind his back for his incompetency at everything he tried. His mother was the worst of all; The horrible wounds that had taken her life were gone in the dream, but her warm brown eyes were cold and dead, and she looked utterly disappointed every time she looked at him.

There had been tear stains on his pillow when he woke up this morning, and no matter how hard he tried, Tsuna couldn't shake the sick, hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. It had seemed like such a good idea; The perfect chance to prove himself, to step up and start making his own decisions. The fact that it involved _killing_ someone hadn't sunk in, then.

Being Dame-Tsuna had never seemed so long ago.

Sighing, he leaned forward, and drummed his fingers on the table in front of him, contemplating. Green eyes glared at him from across the surface momentarily before Gokudera huffed and pushed the mess of paper he'd been studying into the centre of the desk, looking at him questioningly. "I need to steal the M98B. Today." Tsuna said quietly, then paused, pursing his lips as he thought. "It's too suspicious, though. I'm the only one that's been using it, and it's going to disappear, right before..." They didn't dare say what they were planning out loud, not after the he'd agreed to do it. Tsuna watched his companion questioningly, hoping Gokudera would have his own ideas on how to pull it off.

Gokudera frowned, chewing on his lower lip. "That's going to be hard." He met Tsuna's eyes, looking worried. "Are you sure it has to be today? It'll completely blow your alibi if you do it today."

"What would you have me do, Gokudera?" Tsuna snapped. "I gave you the times; If the guards stick to them, today is the best time to move it without being seen." He rolled his eyes, thoroughly annoyed; Gokudera was no gun expert, but the size of the rifle was common knowledge among the academy students; It was the reason the school only owned one of them, after all. "Find a time then, because even disassembled, I'm going to stick out like a sore thumb before I get it hidden."

Flinching at the irritation in Tsuna's voice, the blond rifled through the papers on the table between them, scanning through the information on the pages quietly. After a long pause, and flicking through several pages, he finally answered, keeping his voice subdued in case there was anyone nearby. "Armageddon," He said, obliquely referring to the day of the meeting. "You'd have half the window you do today but it'd give you a chance to build a better alibi." He held the papers out to Tsuna, pointing out the time period he was thinking of. Tsuna made a show of looking over them, trying to decide between the two options, but ultimately nodded. Hayato was a far better strategist than he was, and it was better to be safe than sorry with this sort of thing.

"Alright." He looked over the schematics on the table one last time, before piling them up and shoving them into his bag. Tsuna nodded at Gokudera as he stood, watching the older boy pack his own share of papers away, before raising his voice, just enough to carry. "Thanks for the help, Gokudera. See you at lunch?" He waved off Gokudera's reply and left, trying to ignore how the volume level in the library increased as he exited.

Once he was out of sight, Gokudera relaxed, exhaling loudly. He'd watched Toyotomi for weeks, and he still couldn't put figure out how he felt about the assassin. Nothing about the brunet made any sense, and at times, it seemed like he was a completely different person. He fished a novel out of his bag, before sliding down until he was slouched as comfortably as he could get on the wooden chair, staring blankly at the pages while he thought. When the younger boy had first arrived at the academy, showing up just as dinner was ending, he'd taken one look at him and nearly laughed. Hayato hadn't known who he was then, but anyone that Tyr was showing around personally was bound for the Varia, and that alone got his attention. The boy standing in the shadows of the Varia's legendary swordsman was _tiny_; he couldn't have been any higher than Hayato's shoulder, and he was so nervous he was shaking.

Gokudera remembered scoffing before he turned back to finish his meal. The kid had to be a new recruit, just some mafia orphan that was doomed to become Varia cannon fodder, with a life expectancy of months. It wasn't until the rumours started the next day that he found out that the scrawny kid shadowing Tyr had been Toyotomi Ietsuna, apprentice to the deadliest man in the mafia. Hayato had started watching him a lot more closely after that, but there hadn't been much to see. For all intents and purposes, Toyotomi seemed to be utterly harmless, and despite the hours he spent down in the firing range, his scores were all over the place, boasting either an amazing quickdraw that couldn't hit the broad-side of a barn, or 100% accuracy that even a blind man would see coming. It made no sense.

There was no way this kid could have done what the rumours said he had. Someone was lying, but then the question became _why?_

He sighed, turning the page in his novel, barely registering the words on the page. He'd been about to give up on Toyotomi and try and contact Reborn himself, and see if he could hash out a deal with the Vongola hitman, when the man's apprentice made an abrupt one-eighty in terms of personality. No one knew what prompted it- gossip suggested Reborn had contracted the kid out for a hit- but suddenly Toyotomi was all but _living_ in the firing range. Gokudera had watched him in secret a week after that when Toyotomi had left the door ajar, and had been stunned at the difference in abilities from what the kid had shown before. If anything, his quick draw had gotten even faster, and with a new gun in his hand- half the size of the one he'd had before- the speed and accuracy he was displaying made it seem like he was a completely different person from the shy, diffident boy he'd been before. Toyotomi had hit his stride, and after a few more clandestine observation periods, Gokudera screwed up his courage and approached him, fully expecting to be rejected, if not outright shot.

Instead, the kid had accepted, which brought him to where they were now.

He'd been surprised at first, when the younger boy had jumped to begin preparations for the hit immediately, enlisting Hayato's help right out of the gates. Assassins were notoriously paranoid, and by recruiting him, even for obtaining blueprints and guard rotation schedules, Toyotomi was taking a huge risk. It was another disparity in the boy's image, another piece of a puzzle that didn't quite make up a whole. If he was being completely candid, Hayato of the boy as an enigma, but it was too late for second guessing now; he'd taken the first steps, and now it was all up to the kid.

Hayato flipped another page, pushing the issue at hand out of his mind for the moment. The schedule was set, all he had to do now was wait and see if the kid was what everyone thought he was.


End file.
